


But When We Kiss...

by indiaalphawhiskey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 26 year gap, 30 y/o Harry, 56 y/o Louis, Adults, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Consensual Name Calling, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Discipline Kink, Harry refers to himself as a slut/slutty twice, Light Choking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spoiling Kink, Strangers to Lovers, Sugar Baby, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Louis Tomlinson, light humiliation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiaalphawhiskey/pseuds/indiaalphawhiskey
Summary: Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous.  “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap,” he confirmed. “Be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that really the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?”–– Or, while Harry and Louis adore the chase, they find they adore each other much,muchmore.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 53
Kudos: 544





	1. I say I don't love you

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. I do not claim to own or be affiliated with any of the people/characters mentioned, nor do the events here reflect their true characters in any way.
> 
> **Please read the tags carefully. This was written by an adult for other adults who enjoy reading adult content. If that does not describe you, I strongly encourage you to close the tab/browser/e-reader. Thank you. **
> 
> To @twopoppies -- there are not enough words in any language to thank you for being my friend, fic soulmate, and beta, so... here's some filth instead. Hehe. I owe you a shitton of fics but I hope this little thing will do for now. To a smutty 2020! ILY buckets! <3
> 
> Title of the work and chapter titles are taken from Fire by Bruce Springsteen.

“Have you got that?” the woman asked. The tone of her voice, coupled with the patronizing pinch of her newly ‘refreshed’ lips, screamed condescension.

Harry offered her a soft, subdued smile. “I have, ma’am,” he said, calmly.

She sniffed and her nose, already two and a half inches in the air to begin with, titled higher in doubt. “Repeat it, then.”

Harry let out a slow exhale through his teeth. 

“Of course.” His smile never left his face as he ran through the list in his head. “For the table’s appetizers, the Rockefeller oyster platter, baked garlic lemon butter scallops, lemon butter sauce separated into individual sauce dishes, garlic to the side, and a Caesar salad, with no dressing, no bacon, no chicken, and no croutons, to be served twenty minutes before the main dishes. For his entree,” Harry said, turning to offer the gentleman – who had been scanning him from head-to-toe with a rather lascivious smirk – a quick nod. “Sir will have the cherry-glazed rack of lamb, with marble potatoes instead of garlic rice pilaf, potatoes pre-cut into quarters, and a whiskey double.” He turned back to the woman, a challenge in his tone. “Madam will have the Chilean sea bass and braised asparagus, asparagus to the side and blanched instead of braised, with the pesto and lemon sauce on a separate dish, and a glass of Semillon. Dessert will be two pieces of the dairy and gluten-free chocolate truffle cake, and two glasses of our best sherry.”

The woman’s gaze remained unimpressed. 

“Fine,” she breathed. She flicked her fingers away once, the sheen of her opulent diamond ring reflected on the white tablecloth – a dismissal.

Harry bowed politely, face impeccably calm as he gathered the menus from the table and began to walk away.

_ Oyster platter and scallops baked in nothing, _ he recited in his head as he weaved his way around the tables.  _ Plain lettuce masquerading as Caesar salad. Lamb with an entirely different side dish than the one on the menu – Chef will be pleased as fuck, by the way––  _

_ Snap! _ Harry startled at the sound.  _ What the f–– Snap! Snap! Snap!  _

He leaned back reflexively to avoid the hand aggressively snapping right in front of his nose, before turning to find it was attached to a portly man in his mid-fifties. His face was tinged red with impatience, his breath laboured as he heaved himself back onto his chair now that he had Harry’s attention.

Harry took a deep breath before facing the table. 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Sir,” he began politely. “But my colleague will be with you in just a mo –”

“Oh, you’ll do, sweetheart,” the man crooned, licking his lips as he surveyed Harry. “You’ll do just fine.”

His impatience had faded completely, Harry noticed, though Harry much preferred irritation to… whatever this new expression was. Having only had this job for three days, it took all of Harry’s willpower to swallow the cutting remark that was already resting on his tongue. He managed, but unfortunately, the way his skin was crawling with discomfort was not as easily dealt with.

He exhaled slowly, reminding himself why he needed this job. Unbidden, the events of the last week flashed before his eyes.

Finding unrecognizable lingerie under his pillow. Being told by his fiance that he was being left for a nineteen-year-old pilates instructor slash aspiring male model. Discovering three months’ worth of unpaid rent bills hidden in their (now  _ his _ , he supposed) bread box, and a discarded bill for a ‘12-carat gold-plated necklace with ‘MY BABY’ engraving, cursive’  _ (Gross.)  _ in his trash (already paid, thank God for small favours). Combing coffee shop bulletin boards for part-time jobs that fit his tedious grad school schedule. Chicken-flavored ramen for the three straight dinners.

He tried not to sigh.

_ Relax,  _ he told himself.  _ Be professional, get your check, and get out of here. _

“How may I help you, Sir?” Harry said, miraculously polite.

“Well, beautiful,” Lecherous Restaurant Patron purred, drawing out the pregnant pause as Harry quelled a rising gag.

“Come off it, George,” his companion cut in. He tacked on a chuckle at the end like an afterthought, though it couldn’t mask the slight edge embedded in the words. It made Harry think of the way a cheeky thief smiles as he runs his finger back and forth against a switchblade – just a hint of a threat. “Just order, mate. The kid’s busy.”

It was hardly a white knight stepping in to defend his honour, but after the week Harry had, it was close. He had barely glanced in his saviour’s direcion before George spoke again.

“I own the place, Tomlinson. He can spare a couple more minutes, can’t you, darling?” He punctuated the question with two hefty slaps to Harry’s arse cheek. The first made Harry freeze in shock. The second made his vision go red.

_ Lingerie.  _

_ ‘He’s… amazing, Harry. I love him.’ _

_ Rent. _

_ ‘MY BABY’ engraving, cursive. _

_ Wanted: Part-time Wait Staff. _

_ ‘Repeat it, then.’ _

_ Slap! Slap! _

The punch flew out of Harry, the crisp sound of knuckles against cheekbone ringing satisfyingly in his ears, loud and clear over the scuffle, over the yelling, over the firing. It was all Harry could hear until the harsh slam of the restaurant’s back door, and the biting whip of the winter wind.

_ Cheated on, left, in debt, harassed, fired, tossed out on my arse,  _ Harry thought to himself, raising his fist in a sarcastic cheer.  _ B-I-N-G-fucking-O.  _ What he wouldn’t do for a joint right now.

He let out a deep, bone-tired sigh, winter’s icy fingers creeping around his open coat and up his too-thin undershirt (they had taken his uniform straight off his back, the bastards), before making his way out of the tiny back alley. He hunched his shoulders automatically, the wind somehow stronger out on the dimly lit main street, and began his long trudge to the tube stop, large hands stuffed awkwardly into his coat’s faux pockets because he had also lost his favorite gloves to bloody _ Neverwhere _ this morning.

“Mind the gap, indeed,” he mumbled to himself sadly, taking a little solace in the fact that he had remembered to bring his earphones with him today. He was convinced the morose opening chords of  _ Landslide _ would manage soothe his broken heart, if he played it enough times. (Hey, if Stevie made it through, so could Harry.)

Lost in thought (and in the gargantuan task of untangling the aforementioned earphones), the barely audible crunch of gravel next to him didn’t register at all.

“ – genuinely feel like you’re ignoring me on purpose now but, once more, with feeling – Do. You. Need. A. Ride?”

Harry jumped, clutching at his heart and dropping his earphones in surprise. “What the bloody –”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said. He offered Harry a sheepish smile, his elbow resting on the window of his cheesily predictable top down. “But I’d been here for like seven minutes –”

“You’ve been stalking me for seven minutes,” Harry deadpanned, so done with these absolute shits. “Yeah, not a great line to lead with.”

“Not stalking,” he tried to chuckle confidently, but the tone came out slightly uncertain. “But like, offering you a ride. You know, to make up for…” He tipped his head backward, motioning to the restaurant. “My partner.  _ Business _ partner,” he clarified seriously, and –– 

_Oh, _Harry thought. _The other guy. Tomlinson, _he remembered. No wonder his voice was familiar.

“No, thank you,” Harry said curtly as he began to walk again, his face resolutely blank, eyes trained stubbornly on his destination.

A huff of disbelief weaved itself between the sound of slow-rolling wheels. 

“C’mon, kid,” Tomlinson tried. “It’s cold as shit.”

“Then maybe get a car with a roof,” Harry said, quietly.

Tomlinson chuckled in answer, wheels still painfully in time with Harry’s steps. 

“Fair point. C’mon,” he repeated. “You’ve had a shit night. You’re cold and tired. Let me give you a ride.” When Harry stayed silent, he continued. “You’ll be home quicker. Home, and clean,” he needled. “And warm.”

At that, Harry let himself steal a glance, and was greeted with Tomlinson’s smirking profile, his eyes on the road. High cheekbones, a sharp jaw, the lovely peak of a small nose – everything was slim and pointed. _ Pixie-like,  _ Harry caught himself thinking, though the delicate quality of his face was offset by just a hint of handsome stubble. A healthy amount of silver decorated his temples, but the hair on his head was still a touch more pepper than salt. Not quite a silver fox just yet.

_ Fifty,  _ Harry guessed.  _ Fifty-five at most.  _

“Is this your M.O., or something?” Harry asked, trying to keep the raking irritation from bleeding into his voice. The calmer he was, the less Tomlinson would think he was getting somewhere. “Is that how this works? You go to a restaurant, find a target, get your  _ wingman _ to act like an arsehole, and then swoop in for the kill?”

A startled laugh broke through the hush of the street.

“Just a wee bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Tomlinson teased. 

“Evasive, aren’t  _ you _ ?” Harry shot back.

“Okay, calm down, Sherlock.” Harry could still hear the amusement in his voice. “I do have killer flirting skills, but not  _ serial killer _ flirting skills.”

Harry sighed then, so, _ so  _ exhausted. “Right. Well  _ again, _ no thank you on the ride. In case my little demonstration at the restaurant was somehow unclear, I don’t date men who are old enough to be my father.” 

He tipped his chin up higher, because while Harry may not have any money (or a job, or a fiance), he still had his dignity.

_ Or at least part of it, _ he corrected, pushing away the curdle of humiliation as he remembered finding those awful panties.

“So you only date cheap men,” Tomlinson said, decisively.

“God,” Harry whispered under his breath, his annoyance now too hard to ignore. Louder he said, “Fuck off.” 

“Cheap,” he continued confidently over Harry’s insult. “Young,  _ handsome _ bastards who get one big paycheck and think that makes them Drake or whoever the fuck –” The cool-dad rap reference, plus the well-timed dig at his stupid, necklace-engraving ex, made Harry’s lip twitch upward against his will. “ – and then fuck off with some barely-legal twit who sucks dick like a champ but can’t name a single city outside of London.”

Harry snorted. 

“Know him, or something?” he asked sarcastically, eyes trained on the tiny Underground sign that was still about three blocks away.

“Know him? Oh love,” The way he said it –  _ ‘Luhv’  _ – made Harry finally turn to him. It was a mistake. His eyes were sharp – a searing blue even in the orange cast of the street lamps – and his smile devastating. “I am him,” he admitted freely, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his smirk widened. “Only, you know,” he shrugged. “With a few more checks, and  _ slightly _ higher standards. I mean,” he blinked, almost sweetly. “ _ You _ can name  _ at least  _ three cities outside London... can’t you?”

Harry could feel a gentle heat settle at the tops of his cheeks, the insinuation about his blowjob skills decidedly  _ not _ lost on him. He felt his stomach do a sudden somersault. He pushed it away, convincing himself it was just the rush of attention, the electricity of an unexpected ego boost and that quick, first moment of feeling pretty again after getting horribly, horribly dumped.

His brief silence must’ve signaled a chink in his armour, because Tomlinson then took it as an opportunity to say, “I’m Louis.”

“I didn’t ask,” Harry said, tongue fast, though the fact that he hadn’t yet ducked into a not-suitable-for-sports-cars-sized alleyway probably softened the blow.

Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous. “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap,” he confirmed. “Be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that _really _the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?”

“Closer to twenty-six,” Harry corrected stubbornly. “Which is an entire fully grown adult between us. You could have kids as old – nay,  _ older _ – than our age gap.” Did he just say ‘nay?’

“Did you just say _ ‘nay’ _ , Shakespeare?” Louis teased. “So  _ definitely _ at least three cities outside London, then.” Harry didn’t smile but it was a close thing. “And I promise you,” Louis continued. “I haven’t put myself in the position to bear children since you were – nay,  _ before _ you were born. Been in a lot of other positions since then, though.” 

He had the audacity to punctuate it with a wink. It was annoyingly charming, and Harry had never been angrier at himself.

“Besides,” Louis said, with the kind of smile that knew victory was close. “It’s just a ride, love, no strings attached. Unless of course, getting tied up is what you’re into,” he added, so incredibly pleased with himself. Harry wanted to smack him. But he could also feel the blessedly comfortable heat radiating from the car’s vents.

“Fine.” 


	2. But you know I'm a liar

_ Three years later _

Harry bit his lip absentmindedly, fingering the long strand of pearls around his neck. He tipped his head to the side, assessing his reflection carefully. 

A beat and a breath passed, before he expertly looped the strand a second time around his neck. He smiled then, contented with the way the pearls sat neatly between the dip of his collarbones and brushed against the skin just above his butterfly tattoo. 

Tucking away a bashful smile, he sat up straight, crossing his legs delicately. He reached forward on the vanity, making the necklace sway, the cold, heavy white dancing painfully close to his hardened nipple. He choked back a quiet moan, but his mind was still too fast for his body.

The backs of his eyelids were painted suddenly, with images of phantom fingers, deft as they thumbed over his nipples, rolling them until they stood straight, and hard, and perfect, tender and already begging for  _ his _ mouth,  _ his _ breath,  _ his _ tongue. 

The gentle clatter of keys lured Harry from his fantasy, and the low thrum of desire that seemed to kindle perpetually at the bottom of his belly flared softly at the sound. 

“Louis,” he half-whispered, too, too excited. He reached into his jewelry box quickly, and slipped the delicate teardrop pearl earring onto his left ear, wishing now more than ever that the other one was pierced, too. Louis would love that.

_ Valentine’s Day, _ he told himself, as though he ever needed an occasion, a justification, to do something pretty.

_ “Three-thirty on a Tuesday is enough of an occasion, love,”  _ came Louis’ voice in his head, along with the gentle slither of thin chrome across his neck.  _ “Because I love you is all the justification I need,” _ he would add in a whisper, his teeth skating across the shell of Harry’s ear, the clasp of the necklace falling to rest sweetly against his nape.

Even the thought made a shiver run down Harry’s spine, his toes curling in anticipation. 

Thinking back to when they’d first met made Harry want to laugh. Young, and prideful, and stubborn, he’d completely misread Louis’ generosity - assumed that accepting his gifts, his attention, meant Louis thought of him as nothing more than a possession, an object to be bought, traded, or given away at any moment.

But it wasn’t like that.  _ Louis _ wasn’t like that, though it took Harry five months of valiantly refusing every drink, dinner, and date invitation Louis could possibly come up with, to realize it. And honestly, if Harry hadn’t finally taken Louis up on his daily offer, let him walk Harry home from work each night (“Just some company,” he’d promised Harry, earnest and sincere. “Just a friend to make sure you make it back to your flat safely, that’s all.”) then, well… Harry shook the sad thought away, refusing to dwell on the future he would have missed out on.

Instead, he pulled back the memory of that moment – the moment his defenses came crashing down. And though that night was bitterly cold, in hindsight, all Harry could remember was the warmth of Louis’ hand in his, and the heated, shared breath of their very first kiss.

It was downhill from there, really, but Harry had tried not to let his resolve waver. It took him a year – a year of being chased, courted, and coaxed – to really understand that all Louis had ever wanted was to worship him, to adore him.

It took him another year to accept that he quite enjoyed being adored, especially when he adored Louis right-the-fuck back. Their execution, however, was just  _ a little _ varied. Where Louis worshipped with earnestness, soft words, and a causal diamond here and there, Harry’s adulation manifested itself through home cooked meals, and office visits, and oh-so-casually... dropping to one’s knees in rather, ahem,  _ public _ spaces.

Love languages differed, you see, and Harry, well. Harry was  _ unfailingly enthusiastic  _ in delivering his acts of service.

He smiled wickedly at the thought now, just as the doorknob behind him turned slowly, the door to their bedroom falling away. It was their eyes that met in the mirror first, the reflection not enough to dull the electricity dancing in their shared gaze. 

Harry blinked at Louis, soft, and coy, and slow, embers of love and desire kindling, kindling, kindling in his belly. He smiled, a little love-struck, and a lot wicked, twirling the pearls around his fingers, making them slide across his skin, across one nipple and then both, back and forth,  _ back and forth, _ in a way he knew was irresistible,  _ tantalizing. _

“Good day?” he asked Louis’ reflection, his tone much too innocent for his current state of undress. 

Louis’ eyes caught the movement of Harry’s hand, and the gentle hardening of the pale brown nubs, just like Harry knew they would, and Louis raised a knowing eyebrow in challenge. 

“Better now,” he answered, making a show of dragging his heated stare down Harry’s bare back.

“Oh?” Harry asked, nonchalantly crossing his legs as he threw the pearls over his shoulder, the long strand pouring neatly down the creamy expanse of his back. If Louis wanted, he could tangle the strand in his fingers as he pulled the hair at Harry’s nape, and the perfect cocktail of pain, and pressure, and pleasure and would send Harry hurtling into Nirvana between one gasp and the next. The thought alone was almost enough, but Harry swallowed the moan in favor of glancing delicately over his shoulder, a smirk in place as he shrugged, “Mm. I can’t imagine why.”

Impossible as it seemed, Louis’ brow arched higher.

“Can’t you?” he asked, frowning. He walked slowly, purposefully, towards Harry as he gracefully undid his cufflinks. “I had a…” he started, slowly moving his head back and forth like he was trying to find the right word. “A rather  _ difficult _ day,” he began. He leaned over to drop the cuff links onto the vanity, his index finger dragging slowly up Harry’s spine. 

Harry took a moment to admire the soft crinkles by those beautiful blue eyes, the way the lines deepened the more Harry made him laugh. His temples were greyer now then when they had first met, his gorgeous jawline sprinkled with a touch more silver.

_ My lovely silver fox, _ Harry thought with a pleased hum.  _ Lucky little Harry. _

Aloud, Harry asked, “Why?” He tilted his head up so he was staring at Louis from under his lashes, barely able to bite down on his smirk. “Long meetings?” he offered, saccharine. “Endless e-mails? A stubborn client?”

“Not quite,” Louis said, the ‘t’ sharp as it rolled off his tongue. His fingers found the strand of pearls, and he toyed with them distractedly, the fleeting touches like teasing whispers on Harry’s skin. “You see,” he continued. “My beautiful, brilliant boyfriend has just finished his Graduate degree. Top marks, mind, because I’m in love with a genius,” he added seriously.

“Obviously,” Harry quipped, nodding. 

“Well, I’m afraid the lovely, darling little thing wanted my expert opinion on his graduation gown –”

“ – Naturally.” 

“But he must have been rather tired – his exams were awful, you know – so he sent me a picture but…” Louis shrugged, proceeding to pull out his phone. The lock screen was bright, showing off a very naked, very willing Harry, wearing the same strand of pearls, his long legs spread as he held onto a rather strategically placed graduate’s cap. “... it seems, he managed to remember the jewelry and… forget the gown.”

“Silly thing,” Harry tutted, excitement beginning to pull at his gut. “What on Earth was he thinking?” He leaned his head back against Louis’ belly, the column of his neck open and exposed as Louis’ fingers skittered across it, dancing downward, slow and teasing, lower, lower, lower, until they grazed Harry’s nipple.

“What indeed?” Louis said, their eyes boring into each other through the mirror as he pinched, and prodded, and played, sending one bolt of lightning after another down Harry’s spine. “He sent it at eight in the morning, too,” he chastised, frowning as he shook his head at Harry. “So you can only imagine how…  _ focused…  _ I was at the office.”

There was a sternness to his brow now, and it made something in Harry twist in delight. Louis was always strong, but Harry loved it when he was  _ strict. _

“Maybe he missed you,” Harry offered, a small pout on his lips. Louis’ reflection stared back at him then, hard and unyielding, Harry’s cheeks instantly heating in pleasure. He ducked his head and tried to stop himself from squirming under that scolding gaze, biting his lip in a failed attempt to clear his head and distract himself from the way his cock was stirring in interest. “Maybe he,” Harry tried, but his breath hitched as Louis traced light circles around his navel – a not-so-subtle hint as to where his touch would find itself next.

“Maybe he what, darling?” Louis coaxed, soft.

“Maybe…” Harry’s breathing was slightly strained as he felt the barest dip of Louis’ fingers beneath the waistband of his panties. “Maybe he wanted you to come running home,” he suggested, a little stronger. “To give him your opinion in person. Because he  _ loves _ you,” he tacked on, eyes wide and voice small,  _ sweet _ .

A tight pause stretched between them, but as always, Louis’ lips quirked up amusedly in the mirror, and Harry took that as his cue to reach behind, grab Louis by the shirt and tug him closer. Louis bent forward, and Harry leaned in, pressing his nose against Louis’ cheek, pursing his lips and planting a small, wet kiss there, without letting him go.

Louis huffed out a small laugh. “Or…?” he prompted, rolling the ‘r’, his fingers still just a breadth away from touching Harry’s cock. Then, perfectly timed on Harry’s inhale, Louis wrapped a hand around him, stroking him once, painfully slowly, pulling the breath from his throat.

It took a minute for Harry to recover, desire heavy in his gut, but he did, his grin widening. “Or maybe he’s just  _ naughty _ ,” he giggled breathlessly into Louis’ cheek. “Bratty.  _ Slutty, _ ” he purred.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Louis sang playfully, the dry slide of his hand finding a deliciously steady rhythm on Harry’s cock.

“ _ Oh, _ ” Harry groaned low on a particularly good upstroke, fully hard now. He caught his reflection just as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. 

“Gonna watch yourself, lovely?” Louis asked against his neck, pressing a kiss behind his ear, just before he let their gazes meet in the mirror again. The pad of his thumb traced rough circles around the head of Harry’s cock, making him jump. The sudden movement only pushed him deeper into Louis’ palm, his hand still tangled in Louis’ shirt. “Watch the way you gasp when you come for me?”

Harry swallowed hard, his throat dry. He shook his head, loose curls bouncing into his eyes. “N-no,” he managed weakly.

“No?” Louis asked, arching a brow high in barely concealed surprise. His strokes slowed, but the rhythm was still relentless.

“No,” Harry said again, firm. “Want,” he panted a little. “Want  _ more, _ ” he tried to explain. He gave his best effort at squirming away from Louis’ touch, wanting to keep a firm head, but the heat of their skin was just too good, too electric, that Harry  _ had _ to let himself hump into it; two slow, luscious grinds that made his mouth fall open into an ‘O’.

Louis smirked at the movement, eyes twinkling as he loosened his grip and let his hand be used. “Giving me mixed signals here, baby,” he teased, pressing a kiss to Harry’s flushed cheek.

Harry turned his face so their noses grazed against each other. His eyelids were heavy already, his hips grinding down once more.“‘S good,” he groaned, reluctant and quiet; his words were soft, and a little slurred, “‘S so good like this.”

Louis leaned forward then, pressing one kiss, and then another, onto Harry’s lips. Harry let out a tiny gasp, chasing him as he pulled his mouth away with a smile. “Then come, darling,” he whispered between a shared breath, tempting and devilish, his fist tightening around Harry’s cock again as he rocked forward steadily. “Love it when you’re like this,” he admitted, their open lips resting against each other, breath warm and tongues loose. “When you need me like this.”

“Need you, always need you,” Harry agreed, his words drunk and his mind swimming with the heavenly friction. It was almost too much to bear. He rocked forward hard, turning to glance at himself in the mirror.  _ I look so desperate,  _ he thought, humping down harder.  _ I  _ am _ so desperate. _

“Oh?” Louis asked teasingly, pressing a kiss to his temple, and he must have said that out loud. “For what?” 

If he had his wits about him, Harry might have been embarrassed, but it seemed he was long past that. Instead, he relished in the way Louis’ eyes burned bright, and blue, and beautiful, so achingly delighted at Harry’s blatant need that any trace of bashfulness only bled into pride. 

His mind was floating now, all from the warmth of Louis’ hand on his cock, and Louis steady against his back. He was fading, he could feel it. And then, without warning, Louis’ fingers were tangled in his hair, the pearls he still held, rough and sweet against Harry’s scalp, just as he'd hoped. Louis tugged –  _ hard _ – the pleasure-pain sizzling, sinking deep into Harry’s skin.

“Tell me,” was Louis’ gentle command. “Tell me what you’re desperate for, my love.” A kiss to his chin, his jaw, his ear. “Tell Daddy.”

It tasted sweet, just falling from Harry’s lips. 

“Your cock,” he slurred, the word peppered with broken giggles, whispered like the dirty secret it was. “Love your… Love your cock, Daddy.” He punctuated each word with a lush roll of his hips, his legs spreading wider slowly while he kept their gazes connected in the mirror, determined to show Louis how easy he was for it, how much he  _ deserved _ it.

But then Louis’ expression turned thoughtful, his brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know if you’ve earned that, sweetheart,” he said, and the reprimand was gentle, but the way he pulled his hand, his warmth, away from Harry felt sobering.

“W-What?” Harry asked, startled out of his haze. But he felt it – felt the way his belly flared with sudden heat, because there was always something so…  _ delicious _ about being denied. Still, his eyes were wide as he scrambled around to face Louis, to hold onto him, his heartbeat frantic. “But…” he tried not to pout but his lip was already trembling. “But  _ why? _ ” he demanded. 

It was a useless question. Harry  _ knew _ why, he did; why else would he have done what he’d done? Provoked Louis in a way that was so bold, and bratty, and exquisitely insolent?

_ For punishment. _

“Don’t whine, Harry,” Louis scolded. The coldness in his tone made Harry bite back a hungry whimper, heat high on his cheeks, burning at his neck. Distantly, he felt the soft, silk of his panties go damp around the head of his cock, precome blurting out shamelessly.

_ Harry.  _ Not ‘baby’, not ‘darling’, not ‘sweetheart’, not ‘my love’.

“You’re angry with me,” Harry whispered, his eyes dropping to his lap.

“Frustrated,” Louis corrected.

At that, Harry looked up from beneath his lashes, biting his lip as his eyes met Louis’. Nothing about Louis’ expression or posture suggested he was even remotely affected, his features beautifully, gracefully blank. But even in his dark suit, the hard line of his cock was prominent, and Harry reached out to drag a thumb across it, trace it over the expensive fabric of his trousers.

“I can  _ fix  _ that,” he offered, and without breaking eye contact, he pressed a loving kiss to it. “Can get you to forgive me. Can  _ earn  _ it.” Relishing in the heat of Louis’ stare and the subtle bob of his throat, Harry’s nostrils flared. He parted his lips and mouthed at the shape hungrily, unable to help himself. “...If you want.”

Louis cupped Harry’s cheek then, mapping out the crest of his cheekbone in quiet adoration.

“Is that what  _ I  _ want?” he asked, thumbing gently at the curve of Harry’s jaw. His hand found its way to the nape of Harry’s neck, fingers twirling themselves in his curls. Then, he pulled, just on the sweet side of harsh, Harry’s face jerking up towards him, a wanton moan ripping itself from his throat. “Or what  _ you  _ want?”

Harry couldn’t fight off his grin, serene, and so terribly debauched. “What we  _ both  _ want,” he tried.

Louis tutted, amused. “My cheeky little love,” he crooned, and Harry preened happily at the endearment, heart soaring as Louis brought their faces close. He smiled, his eyes darting down to Harry’s mouth, a small warning before he gifted Harry with a playful nip on his bottom lip. “Try again.”

Louis untangled his fingers delicately and straightened himself, composed as always, and Harry pouted up at him, in a way he knew made his lips look plush and delectable.  _ Fuckable. _

His hands pawed at Louis’ hips, tugging, trying to untuck his shirt. The outline of Louis’ cock was now so temptingly close to his mouth that he was salivating. But even before Harry could rumple the fabric, Louis took both of Harry’s hands in his, stopping him.

“Greedy boy,” he murmured. It didn’t feel like a reprimand, not to Harry; to Harry it felt like  _ praise.  _

Louis pulled Harry up and off the chair swiftly, so they stood face to face, blue eyes serious as they locked onto mischievous green, and Harry smiled wide. Gently removing his wrists from Louis’ grasp, he tangled his fingers in the soft hair at Louis’ nape, pulling him close, nudging his mouth open and slipping his tongue in for a torrid little kiss. 

“You  _ love _ me,” he said, in between hot licks, determined to pacify Louis with his tongue. Without waiting for an answer, he tugged Louis even closer by the belt buckle, sharp, so Louis had to touch him, had to steady himself with his warm hands on the curved flesh of Harry’s waist. Like this, with their bodies pressed flush together, Harry mouthed up Louis’ jaw, teething at the sexy, stubbled skin until the heat of his breath rested against Louis’ ear. “You’ll forgive me,” he murmured confidently, like a secret.

“Will I?” Louis challenged, voice bored, but Harry was undeterred.

He smirked, so, so ready to  _ play. _

“I’ll strip for you,” he offered, easy as breathing, shameless and brazen as he undid the first two buttons of Louis’ shirt deftly. He toyed with the hair on his chest, leaning in for a peck that morphed into a kiss, into open mouths, into tongues that danced, and sucked, and stole breath, until Harry was dizzy with the wet taste of Louis, and Louis... 

Louis only fingered the waistband of his silk panties in answer, Harry lost between chasing his lips desperately, and walking him backward. 

“So all you’ll do,” Louis said, slipping his fingers under the elastic. “Is remove this flimsy thing?” He pushed the panties to the side to prove his point, the material wedging itself perfectly in the cleft of Harry’s arse. His cock strained against the taut fabric, just a hint of the friction he needed. Louis cupped Harry’s balls in his hand and fondled them with rhythmic steady rolls, keeping their gazes connected, until Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head, a low groan pulled out of him. Louis chuckled, shaking his head at Harry, who was so helpless now, in the face of his growing desire. “Hardly a feat, darling.”

Not to be outdone, Harry forced himself to swallow, ignoring the heaviness of his cock, the perfect pressure of his balls in Louis’ hand. He pushed Louis to sit on the bed and then straddled him with a flourish, delighted to see Louis’ eyes catch on the weeping head of Harry’s cock poking playfully out of the silk. Harry moved his hips, smiling devilishly as he pretended to get situated, the hard line of Louis’ cock a hot weight under his thigh. He hooked one arm around Louis’ neck, and leaned back gracefully, his torso stretching, long and lean.

Slowly, he ground down in smooth figure eights, rolling forward and rubbing their groins together to the phantom beat of music. He bounced, and swirled, and humped, eager, his head lolling backward and curls falling into his face. Bliss skated across his features everytime he managed to steal a spark of friction from their bodies, the bolts of surprise and pleasure making him giggle. 

“I’ll dance for you,” he said, all fake bashfulness, knowing too well he was wearing his desperation all over his skin. With wide, innocent eyes, he took Louis’ hand and sweetly kissed first his palm, and then the pads of his fingers one by one, before slipping two into his mouth, and sucking on them hungrily. He bucked rhythmically in Louis’ lap, their eyes boring into one another, Harry’s mouth painfully obscene as he fucked his tongue in between Louis’ fingers, trying to coat every inch of them in spit. Louis pressed down on his tongue, Harry’s mouth falling open before Louis slid his fingers deep into the back of Harry’s throat, making him gag. There were tears prickling at his eyes but he gurgled happily, aching to have any part of him used by Louis.  _ Abused  _ by Louis.

Louis’ throat bobbed, his tongue between his teeth, quiet for a beat longer than necessary. He opened his mouth as if to deny Harry again, but the earlier stern, strict fire wavered, his whip of a tongue softening just a touch as he demanded, “What else?”

_ Ding. Fucking. Ding, _ Harry sang in his head triumphantly. He blinked his eyes slowly, his lashes fanning angelically across his cheeks. He let his ace sit comfortably up his sleeve, cherishing the anticipation.

When Harry had first agreed to become Louis’ boyfriend, he had desperately tried to stop Louis from spending money on him. Gift after extravagant gift, from watches to clothes to cars, Harry pleaded for Louis to stop, so worried about what his wealth said about their relationship, about Louis, about _him, _if he let himself enjoy it. In those early days, even high on love and drunk on each others bodies, they fought constantly, roaring at each other from across the room, the flat, the park (and once, in the jewelry section at Harrod’s) trying to get the other to _just_ _fucking understand where I’m coming from, goddamn it!_

...Until it finally clicked.

_ Harry gasped with the realization. _

_ “Oh my god,” he said quietly, feeling a lightbulb go off in his head. “You like it.” _

_ “Like what?” Louis snapped, still huffy, tired from their earlier row. _

_ “You. Like. It,” Harry repeated, emphasizing every word, letting them roll off his tongue as his lips curved into a slow smile.  _

_ Louis raised an eyebrow, unsure if his new beau had lost his fucking mind. “Of course I  _ like _ it,” he seethed, annoyed by Harry’s sudden playfulness. “I obviously wouldn’t spoil you if I didn’t enjoy it. You’ve made it  _ quite _ clear my money does nothing for you,” he said, and though it was low, Harry could hear the hurt. _

_ “You should have told me,” Harry soothed, approaching Louis slowly, his smile gentle.  _

_ Louis looked at him, expression incredulous. “I fucking di –” _

_ “No,” Harry interrupted, the green of his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You should have told me you  _ love  _ it,” he said, and this time, he practically licked the word as it fell off his tongue. “Should have told me it  _ turns you on _ .” He can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner, the thought alone igniting hot embers in his gut.  _

_ The answering burn of Louis’ cheeks was immediate, and Harry advanced on him his smile devilish – predatory. _

_ “It does not,” Louis tried to deny, though the way his eyes seemed to dart around the room searching for escape dulled the effect quite a bit. _

_ “No?” Harry chuckled, tilting his head sweetly. “You don’t like seeing me dripping in your gifts?” he asked. “Don’t like me wearing your love all over me while I bounce on your cock?” He clicked the ‘k’ just to see Louis squirm, and whether the startled look in Louis’ eyes was from Harry’s words, or his back hitting the refrigerator, it didn’t matter. Harry had him. He was trapped now, caged between the heat of Harry’s body and the cold chrome behind him, eyes downcast and cheeks flaming. “You can tell me,” Harry crooned, pressing his nose into Louis’ hair, his breath at his ear. “That you want to spill all over me,” he taunted, relishing in the shiver Louis gave off. “Dirty all that expensive jewelry, cover it in your come. I’d let you,” Harry said, pressing in so close he could feel Louis’ ragged inhale in his ribs. “I’d  _ love _ it –  _ gag  _ for it.”  _

_ And Louis was not a man who often whimpered, but at that? He was only human, after all. _

_ Harry beamed at the sound, tangling his fingers in the fabric of Louis’ shirt. “Say it for me,” he begged, breathless now, his lips hovering over the corner of Louis’ mouth. “Tell me spoiling me is your  _ kink.”

And  _ oh, _ did Harry allow himself to enjoy Louis’ little kink. The memory was enough to spur his ache, the yearning a heavy weight tethering him to the moment, to Louis, as he sucked hard at his fingers before letting them drop from his mouth. He loved the way the spit on his chin made him feel messy. Filthy.  _ Used. _

He grinned drunkenly at the thought, and swayed forward, his hips still rolling, rolling, rolling against Louis.

“I wear all of it for you,” he murmured, twirling his fingers around the pearls so Louis would catch his meaning. “Every. Last. Fucking. Piece.” 

The way Louis’ eyes widened then, felt like Harry’s first luscious victory.

“All of it?” he whispered, his fingers inching under Harry’s panties, betraying the depth of his interest.

Harry slid Louis’ hand up the fabric slowly, guiding it across the swell of his arse. He dipped two of Louis’ fingers into the crevice, patiently leading him to what he wanted to find. Harry saw the moment the pads of his fingers felt the telltale curve of the plug, a single, four carat diamond embedded right in the middle – the result of Harry offhandedly joking that he was running out of body parts for Louis’ lavish presents.

“Want that?” Harry asked sweetly, sliding his hand between them to cup Louis hard in his trousers. He leaned in close and whispered, “Want me to sparkle, fucking  _ jingle  _ like a little bell while you fuck me raw?”

The slow, quiet pant of Louis’ breath was answer enough. Harry preened as he felt Louis graze his nose up Harry’s jaw and to his ear, sucking the pearl earring into his mouth. Harry felt the way he teethed at it, rolled it around in his tongue as he murmured, “When did your mouth get so filthy, hm?” Harry could hear his smile.

Harry smirked, and leaned back. The gesture made Louis’ teeth catch at the lobe of his ear, and Harry sighed in pleasure. Then, he kissed Louis, slow and dirty; suckled on his bottom lip, fucked his tongue into his mouth. “When you stuffed it with your cock.”

Louis pulled away, overcome, and buried his nose in Harry’s neck, letting out a soft pleasured groan in answer. His mouth found the pulse in Harry’s throat, right above the strand of pearls, and he hovered there, so ready to sink his teeth into the flesh. 

“I should punish you,” he breathed – a threat, though it was followed by a sharp pinch to Harry’s nipple that made him writhe, his toes curling. “Should leave you hard and restless in public for  _ hours _ ,” he continued, his knuckles dragging down Harry’s smooth torso, over the flat plane of his stomach, across the stiff, solid line his cock. “Unable to walk across a room.” The growl in his voice made Harry’s eyelashes flutter, his mouth watering as he squirmed in Louis’ lap. “So desperate that you’re practically humping your office chair like a horny teenager.” 

Harry gasped at the insinuation, at the image of this perfectly poised man in ruins, just from a picture – a picture of  _ him. _

“Don’t,” Harry begged – whined. “Please,  _ don’t. _ ”

Louis only hummed in response, long and thoughtful. “Maybe I will,” he sang, and Harry had to bite his own lip to keep it from quivering, to hide his distressed whimper. “Or…” There was a light skate of fingers across the flesh of his arse, the only warning before the first slow pull, the  _ stretch _ of the plug.

“O-oh my god,” Harry moaned, loud and low.

“Maybe I won’t.” The plug was sliding into him again, pressing exquisitely on his prostate.

Harry pushed his arse backward, a silent plea for  _ more, please, God, more _ but –

“Uh-uh,” Louis tutted, pulling it out with an obscenely wet pop, and Harry felt so empty he could cry. “What did I say about greedy boys, my love?” he asked gently, tossing the plug over his shoulder coolly.

“I’ll be good,” Harry begged, voice ragged and mind completely distraught, babbling, “I’ll be so good for you, Daddy, I swear. I’ll please you so  _ good _ , let you do anything you want with me.”

Louis pulled back then, levelling him with a calm, but steely stare . “I can  _ always  _ do anything I want with you, can’t I?”

Harry nodded so hard he was dizzy. “Yeah, yes, always.”

“And tell Daddy why,” he said, his fiery eyes boring into Harry’s. He repeated, “Tell me why I can have my way with you anytime I want, Harry.”

Harry’s smile was punch-drunk and pretty, and he lifted his hand to finger at the pearl earring coquettishly. “Because I’m yours,” he slurred, hand dropping to the curve of his necklace. “Only yours.” Then, he leaned forward to murmur his favorite secret into Louis’ ear. “I’m your filthy. Little.  _ Slut. _ ”

The words punched the lowest, deepest groan Harry had ever heard from Louis, and Harry’s heart soared at the sound.

“Love you,” Louis panted against his neck, the dam finally, finally,  _ finally  _ breaking, his adoration pouring over Harry in delicious, drowning waves. He kissed Harry hard, then. “Love you so much, baby.”

“Gonna show me?” Harry gasped against his lips. “Gonna make me scream? Fuck me good?”

“So good,” he agreed –  _ promised _ – lifting Harry effortlessly, his hands under his thighs. Harry squealed in delighted surprise, clutching Louis tightly as they crossed the room.

It took Louis exactly three breaths to have Harry pinned against the wall, panties pulled down and bunching, caught on the meaty flesh of Harry’s thighs, his cock slapping against his stomach as it hit the cold air of the room. Harry sighed, so, so happy.

“You’re ready, darling, right?” Louis begged, his fingers circling Harry’s hole,  _ around, and around, and around. _ “Tell Daddy you’re ready.”

Harry’s head lolled back at the fleeting touch, the barely-there contact making his nerves sizzle. Here, heart full and skin burning like a raging wildfire, he wished with everything he had that he hadn’t prepped. He  _ always _ wanted to feel Louis fully, the weight of him, the girth. Always wanted to remember every millisecond of luscious pleasure-pain, wanted Louis to pound into him, into his ribs, punching every single sliver of air from his chest, his lungs. He wanted to  _ take it _ – good, and hard, and rough.  _ For Daddy. _

“Harry,” Louis’ voice pulled him back, strict, sharp. Harry stared back at him, eyes wide and adoring, knowing Louis would  _ never _ allow that, never even  _ think _ of fucking him dry because he’d never let anyone hurt his darling, his love, his  _ baby  _ – even himself. “Harry,” he said again, tipping Harry’s chin up with his fingers, making him focus. “Tell the truth, love. Are you  _ ready? _ ”

He beamed at Louis, then. “‘M ready,” he said, truthfully, remembering how he opened himself up earlier, just loose enough for the slide, the drag of it, to dance on the edge of pain. “Rode my fingers good before I put in the plug,” he confessed into the punishing tension of the room.

“Good,” Louis said, surging forward for a hard, hungry kiss. “Such a good –” Another kiss. “Good, good boy.” Another. “My lovely, perfect, angel boy,” he murmured against Harry’s lips.

The sweet, loud rip of Louis’ zipper was music to Harry’s ears, the sound of his belt buckle clattering to the floor the crescendo.

Louis lined his cock up with Harry’s hole and slowly, carefully,  _ lovingly _ pressed inside him. Harry moaned, so fucking contented, watching as Louis’ eyes fluttered closed at the achingly perfect friction, head tipped up as if in prayer, as if thanking every deity on Earth for Harry. Harry clutched at him, hands tangled in his hair, desperate to kiss him again, all open mouths and begging tongues.

“God, you feel so fucking lovely,” he breathed into Harry’s mouth, pressing him into the wall as he inched inward. “ _ Are  _ so fucking lovely, the absolute fucking  _ best, _ ” he babbled, so overwhelmed as he bottomed out. “Best I’ve ever had.”

Harry cupped his chin with both hands, pecking his lips. “Then show me,” he requested, sweet and desperately in love. He bucked into Louis, digging his heels into the backs of his thighs. “Fuck me. Fuck me  _ senseless _ .”

With a firm arm around Harry’s hip, Louis braced himself against the wall and ground against Harry in the slowest, most painfully luscious circles.

“Like this?” he huffed.

“ _ Hnggggggg,”  _ Harry whimpered, his head lolling back against the wall, matching the swirls of Louis’ hips as best he could. He dragged his hand down, laying it above his abdomen. “God, I can  _ feel _ you here,” he said, pressing down. “Feel you in my belly, so deep in me.”

“Love that,” Louis said, switching his grinds to unhurried thrusts. “Love  _ you _ . Love being inside you, always wanna be inside you.”

Louis took his time, shifting his hips once, twice, thrice.  _ Pull, drag, pound. Pull, drag, pound.  _

The rough friction of Harry’s back against the wall, gently scraping,  _ clawing,  _ only fed their heat.

The pearls around Harry’s neck bounced, clattered against each other, in perfect sync with the obscene slap of Louis’ balls against Harry’s arse. The rhythm picked up then –  _ pulldragpound, pulldragpound _ – and Harry scrambled for purchase, tangling his fingers in the fabric of Louis’ dress shirt.

His mouth fell open, breath punched from him as Louis hit his prostate, electricity jolting through his body, wracking it with waves of bliss again, and again, and again. Harry’s eyes rolled back into his head hard, the thrusts so perfectly deep, relentless, faithful, it felt as though his screams barely had time to take flight before another came barreling through after them. 

All he could do was take it – buck closer, pull tighter, beg for  _ more, more, Daddy, more! _ Just a tiny, little ship being tossed back and forth, completely helpless and utterly engulfed in this sea of raging pleasure. 

“God, yes!  _ Yesssss! _ Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” he chanted, breathless.

The waves continued to crest – higher, and higher, and higher – Louis’ hand unforgiving around Harry’s cock, the spit he used to smoothen the slide bubbling as he jerked Harry roughly just on the right side of painful. Their mouths were hot, thirstily searching for every inch of skin they could bite, lick, suck, so eager to consume, and be consumed by each other.

A magnificent thrust hit Harry right at his core then, Louis holding him steady as the weight that had been mounting in him soared closer and closer to the hilt. 

“I need,” Harry gasped, eyes flying open as he clutched Louis to his nipple, raw and begging for more of Louis’ mouth, his tongue, his teeth. “I need to come, Daddy, can I? Can I come?” He bit his lip hard just in time for another wave to seize him,  _ drown _ him. “Please, please –”

“Come, baby,” Louis soothed. He pressed one lush kiss after another along Harry’s chest, his collarbone, his neck, Louis’ fingers suddenly tangling themselves in the strand of pearls, pulling them tighter ever so slowly. Louis bit at his skin, rolling it roughly between his teeth, tugging harder at the necklace with every suck. The pressure built, sweet and choking, and the scream Harry had tried to stifle morphed into a contented gasp. The last rough twist of his curls held him suspended on the edge, so achingly ready to fall, and then… “Come for Daddy.”

And Harry obeyed.

  
  


The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you liked it! :) You can find the masterpost for this fic [here](https://indiaalphawhiskey.tumblr.com/post/190236377629/indiaalphawhiskey-but-when-we-kiss-by), and come hit me up on [tumblr](https://indiaalphawhiskey.tumblr.com) to say hi!


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